


I turned my back (you turned to dust)

by adreadfulidea



Category: Mad Men
Genre: AU, F/M, The Americans AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreadfulidea/pseuds/adreadfulidea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She drove to the waterfront and parked the car. It had rained earlier that morning and would probably rain again in the afternoon, but for now the air was clear, if still cold and damp. She got out and looked up at the overcast sky, the low-hanging, dark clouds. And then she set off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I turned my back (you turned to dust)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arbitrarily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbitrarily/gifts).



> An Americans AU as requested by arbitrarily. Title comes from a Keaton Henson song.

 

Peggy left the house quietly, and alone. Stan was still asleep, sprawled across the bed. They had no appointments today, and he’d had too much to drink. She let him be.

She drove to the waterfront and parked the car. It had rained earlier that morning and would probably rain again in the afternoon, but for now the air was clear, if still cold and damp. She got out and looked up at the overcast sky, the low-hanging, dark clouds. And then she set off.

Her running shoes were new and they felt springy as they bounced against the pavement. The wind whipped through her hair, across her face, her cheeks and lips. Her skin would be red and dry by the time she got back to the house.

She shivered in spite of her pumping legs and heart, she wanted -

(- to go back home, and climb in bed with Stan, tucked against his warm back. To wake him up with her mouth against his neck, and have him call her Margosha, _Margosha_ , as she took him apart.)

There was nothing open at this hour on a Sunday. No coffee shops or bookstores or bakeries. Nothing, nowhere to stop and browse. So she kept going.

He had been so cocky when she met him. So sure that he was going to make the state proud. She hadn’t been. She had been terrified, a girl alone in a strange country with no way home.

When had that changed?

“We could stay here,” he had said to her last night, whispered in her ear. “We could just disappear, they’d never know -”

She had gotten out of bed immediately, ripping the covers off herself in anger, or panic. “Never say something like that to me again.” And she slept on the couch. Her back was still stiff; hopefully running would help work some of the kinks out.

He was always too fucking confident in himself. What if that got back to headquarters? What if - what if they told her to -

There was a man jogging towards her in a blue windbreaker. She slowed down to let him pass, but he stopped abruptly and stared at her in alarm. “Lady,” he asked, his voice low and worried, “are you okay?”

At first she didn’t know what he meant. But as she raised her hands to her face - her numb and stinging face, her burning eyes - she understood. Her cheeks were wet with tears. She wiped them away with her palm.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s only because of the wind.”

 

 


End file.
